


Us Against the Galaxy

by FreakCityPrincess



Series: Fire of Rebellion [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: A celebration of the dynamic between these two, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dancing, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realisation, Makeup & Hidden Weapons, Mission Fic, Preparation for undercover, RebelCaptain May the Fourth Exchange, Spy Badassery, These two look badass in mission getup, Undercover as a Couple, Very Close Proximity Forced by Circumstance, totally platonically helping each other dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakCityPrincess/pseuds/FreakCityPrincess
Summary: She was only carrying four blades on her person, while Cassian had on him six weapons in total. The more hidden weapons, the greater chance they’d make it out alive if everything went to hell.He held his arm out to her like the people they were imitating, and she took it. Even dressed likethis,looking ridiculous and pretending to be two people they were worlds away from, she never felt so alive as when they worked together, side by side, an infallible team.At times when she allowed her mind to wander past cold reality, she felt like the two of them could take on the Empire by themselves.





	Us Against the Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [for_centuries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_centuries/gifts).



> Happy Star Wars day! My giftee for this exchange is @carr-crashh-hearts and I’m very excited to present this to you:)  
>   
> The prompt was _Dancing OR sex pollen that brings their true feelings to light._ I chose to mainly go with dancing, but if you squint, there’s a hint of the other prompt in here as well (albeit without the literal pollen, or even any actual sex I might add, but hey, microscopic prompt fill!)
> 
> [View the Artwork on tumblr](https://hoofgirl.tumblr.com/post/184645349182/wishing-my-giftee-carr-crashh-heartss-and-all-of)

The Arabassi sector. A portion of Core-World space lying three average hyperspace jumps away from Coruscant. Home to a community that was well on its way to becoming a proud ally to the Empire, made of human and near-human sentients who inhabited the two planets and their adjacent moons. The infrastructure of every major city on these worlds had developed greatly since Imperial settlement- and it was settlement, not occupation, because there was no fiery invasion and the Arabassi welcomed the Empire in with open arms. Like many Core Worlds, the sector seemed to be part of a different galaxy. One that didn’t look out for a raging civil war, didn’t experience suffering, poverty or a suffocating lack of independence by the hands of their new rulers.

Thanks to a benevolent Imperial Governor, the sector had yet to suffer cultural oppression, either. The natives were given the freedom to continue with their long-standing cultural practices, undisturbed by local law enforcement or the usual rules that came into place whenever the Empire claimed a world as its own. Their identity therefore remained firmly etched into the way they spoke, adorned their buildings, carried out ceremonies and dressed, and even more deeply entrenched in their hearts, always to be taken seriously.

If the Empire were to misstep, venture into that territory, they would almost certainly have a rebellion on their hands.

But the Alliance wasn’t here to upset the balance. Theirs was a different agenda, more discreet, and one that wouldn’t deeply upset the people of the sector in the short term. Like most Core Worlds jam-packed with Imperials and their sympathisers, the air was rife with intel and whispers to listen to. Trickles of information that leaked from loose-lipped sources and people who believed they were so deep into the Empire’s territory that there were no enemies around. Usually, the Intel was good and fresh enough that it warranted stationing one or more of the Alliance’s operatives in the sector at any given time.

Jyn and Cassian had been on the shift for three Galactic Standard weeks and were set to be for two weeks more. Permission had not been granted to let the rest of Rogue One be with them. Arabassi was, after all, an intelligence operation, and General Draven did not believe in using squads for the subtle task of gathering intel. Bodhi had been prissy about being stationed on Hoth while his comrades enjoyed some bearable weather on a stuffy planet, and unable to say or do anything that would make him feel better, Jyn clapped him on the shoulder and promised him the next mission.

Perhaps even more upset about the arrangement was K-2SO, though for an entirely different reason.

“There is a sixty-five percent chance Cassian will incur injury and a thirty-nine percent chance such an injury would hinder the mission. He is also evidently less likely to avoid near-fatalities on my watch. There is a seventy percent chance you will endanger yourself, the mission, or Cassian personally due to your reckless nature and general disregard for protocol.”

To which Jyn responded with an obscene gesture before walking the other direction.

She didn’t believe him. They made a perfectly adequate team. Maybe even more than adequate, _evidently,_ and Kay’s statistics about their compatibility were probably stemming from a jealous place.

Three weeks into the operation, Jyn was starting to miss her quarters on Hoth. Not the planet itself- nobody could miss it, unless they were also missing half a brain- but the familiar surroundings, the feeling of relative safety, and having something to call her personal space. In line with their cover as a merchant couple, she was currently sharing a single room with Cassian in a city hotel with decent enough amenities. The room wasn’t cramped and the single bed had plenty of room for two, but three weeks in his presence in such close quarters was getting a bit...jarring.

There was also the fact that Arabassi was filled to its teeth with Imperials and the usual height of alertness required for an undercover op. Combine that pressure with the fact that most days she woke up with her legs tangled in his, to the sight of sleep-mussed black hair and a soft cotton shirt that kept riding up his stomach; who could blame her for wanting to go back to Hoth?

But these were only a few moments in the early morning, provided they got any sleep, which wasn’t always the case. The mission itself demanded all the rest of her attention; it was weeks of tireless work and integrating into the Alliance network on Arabassi as well as Imperial circles, each long day ending with the two of them painstakingly securing code to be sent back to the rebel base. It wasn’t her first mission for Draven, but it was the first that didn’t involve bashing in any bucketheads, and the repetitive nature of their tasks grated on her every nerve.

It was really no wonder that Jyn’s face lit up like she’d heard the best news in the world when Cassian came in on the last day of the third week with the words, “Looks like we’ll have to go into the field.”

Jyn reminded herself of that initial excitement a night later as she eyed the dress on her bed with disgust.

If it could even be _called_ a dress, what with the negligible amount of actual fabric and a _skirt_ so utterly transparent it may as well not have been there. This was the problem with Arabassi; they took their elements of couture way too seriously, and anyone who deviated drew the wrong kind of attention. It wouldn’t be a problem if they posing as Imperials, but they were merely merchants who were supposed to have lived in the sector for a while, and therefore compelled to follow the locals in all they did. They could leave no room for error on this mission. The Alliance couldn’t afford to lose this assignment.

Jyn was still glaring at the offending garment like it had insulted her family name when there was knock from behind the ’fresher door, and Cassian looked out. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her, still in the hotel-provided bathrobe she’d donned after her own turn in the sonic.

“What were you doing for the past ten minutes?”

She fought the impulse to respond with swear words. “Trying to figure out what to do with the dress besides wear it?”

He left the ’fresher with a sigh, closing the door behind him. He had already cleaned up and dressed in ten minutes, time in which she was also supposed to get ready. Jyn was loathe to admit that he looked good in the silken shirt and tight pants traditional for the men of the sector. The white shirt was folded casually at the elbows, with a V-neck exposing the skin of his collarbone. The pants had a wide strip of vibrant colours -blues, oranges, yellows- into which the shirt was tucked, and were plain black below it, clinging snugly to his legs. But _of_ _course_ , Cassian Andor had the audacity to look more attractive than laughable in such a ridiculous getup.

She defiantly met him with a glare.

“Have you at least tried to figure out how it works?” He gestured at the dress on the bed, ignoring her. “Or have you just been staring at it in disgust?”

Jyn dropped her shoulders, relenting. Her problem with the dress wasn’t that it was- _Force help her_ \- not in line with her usual style. It wasn’t even the fact that precious Alliance credits had been blown on it. It may have been a little known fact outside of her close circle, but Jyn Erso liked pretty things as long as they weren’t garish, and she didn’t mind spending a few extra credits here and there as long as the product was worth the price.

But that dress was going to expose all of her scars and while a small part of her worried about being so _bare_ before Cassian, a bigger part of her was concerned that it wouldn’t help their mission. Why would a legal merchant woman have badly skinned knees and various fading scars littering her body? Hadn’t Cassian _considered_ that fact, where he normally thought of everything? Was he somehow of the misguided impression that her body didn’t offer up evidence of a hard life?

“I don’t think it covers much,” commented Jyn dryly, not looking up at him.

She wasn’t insecure about her marks, she was _proud_ of them, Saw used always say that an unmarked soldier wasn’t worth their weight in empty credit chips, but when it was a risk to the mission and when Cassian looked that good in comparison—

Cassian, who slowly shook his head in apology.

“I’m sorry. It was the best I could find. But you’ll have mobility, at least, should things go wrong.”

She swallowed as a familiar gentleness touched his eyes.

"I know you're not comfortable with it," he said quietly. "And I understand. You don't like these clothes, and I don't see it as easy to simply...ignore your own choices and adapt. But it really was the best I could do." He paused, cleared his throat a little. "This op is important, Jyn. If you're working in intelligence, you have to learn to let go of yourself for a while, even if you hate doing it.”

Of course, he was right. He’d been doing this for years.

If she still refused to comply, he would accept it because that was the kind of person he was. But his loyalty to the rebellion was unwavering, and even if his only backup stayed out of the picture, he would run the mission himself. There was no way she was letting that happen.

She nodded and picked up the dress.

In the dim light of the ’fresher, she shrugged out of the robe and held the crimson-coloured one-piece in front of her, discerning how it would look. It really didn’t stretch past her torso, and ended in a v-shaped cut before her thighs. Worse, the middle of it- which spanned over her stomach, was made of the same transparent gauze as the detachable skirt, if a little thicker for more coverage.

Not letting herself think too much about it, Jyn climbed into the one-piece and pulled it up to fit her arms through the sleeves. They left her shoulders exposed, falling in ruffles around them. The material covering her chest glittered under the light, and the gauze over her stomach was thankfully thick enough that her scars didn’t show unless carefully scrutinised. The problem was that her legs were entirely exposed, with all their bruises and patches of broken skin. She’d shaved this morning and the ’fresher was cold, raising goosebumps all over her skin.

Merchant woman. Not a smuggler who got into scuffles or a soldier. Full of scars. _Right._

For kriff’s sake, Cassian had got her _size_ right on his pre-mission shopping trip (which some higher-up in Alliance Intelligence hadn’t let her take part in, for illogical reasons), but he’d somehow forgotten that she needed these scars hidden to keep in line with their cover?

Jyn grabbed the skirt, more like a block of flimsy gossamer cloth, passing it through the thin loops sewn into the waist of the one-piece. After a minute of struggling, she managed to make ends meet until the skirt dropped to her ankles at her sides, leaving an open slit in the middle for easy walking. It wasn’t thick enough to hide her scars, but at least she could rip it off easily if she needed to run.

Then came the second problem, perhaps the biggest one yet. As it turned out there was no space on the outfit for more than one hidden blade- and the only blade she could get in was the smallest of her collection, a thumb-sized vibroblade that was safe enough to slip into her breastband.

Jyn looked back up at the mirror to assess her situation. She could fit another into her breastband from the back, that was a given- but there had been no point in her life other than Wobani where she'd carried less than five defenses on her person. And blades would have to do- they didn't have the clearance to carry blasters with them into the party. The lack of weapons- blades, blasters or otherwise- made her feel more exposed than the scrappy dress did.

She picked up another blade. Longer, this time, and possible to fold in half so that its sharp edges hid themselves. Ornately decorated, painted red and gold. A present from Baze. She'd never put it to use- it was too pretty, an ornamental item- but he had said something about Jedhan women concealing their defenses whilst keeping up with tradition. It took a few clever twists until she got the thin blade into her bun, but it blended well enough that a no one would look twice.

She felt more comfortable now, with her weapons firmly in place. She just had to line her eyes with kohl, put some colour over her lips, and she was done.

Cassian was seated on the bed with a datapad in hand and a small, compact box by his side. He looked up abruptly when she stepped into the room.

“My scars are showing,” she blurted, unable to ignore the matter for much longer. “Isn’t that going to be a problem? Janine isn’t supposed to have been in fights.”

The slightest of smiles flitted across his face before it was gone.

“I thought about that.” He gestured at the box by his side, which she picked up. “You won’t need to do too much of a touch-up job; it’s going to be dark where we’re going, so they shouldn’t stand out too much. This is just a precaution.”

She opened the box, her eyes narrowing. Turned it over in her hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s what we call stage-makeup. It’s just to cover up any mottled skin or scars that might not look right for whatever personality you’re imitating.”

Jyn treated him to a blank look. “Right. I’ll just...put this on, then.”

Cassian stood up, giving her his place on the edge of the bed. She had to scoot further back to stretch her legs out in front of her, bending forward with the dusted brush in hand, her skirts parting and falling to the sides to expose the full length of her legs. Goosebumps prickled along the naked skin.

Cassian politely leaned back against the dressing table, eyes on his datapad.

Bringing her knees up, she started with the dark spots and keloid on her left knee, smearing the powder artlessly over the damaged skin. It looked like a shoddy cover from this distance. She concentrated on applying more of it, so that the layer was thicker, safer, and of the two colours in the box she used the one that resembled her skin tone most, although not to an altogether convincing degree.

She muttered a curse, and Cassian looked up from his reading. He blinked, like he couldn’t understand what she was doing.

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He pointed at the box in her hand. “Why are you using that colour?”

“Uh.” Jyn snapped the box shut, holding it up with a scowl. “It matches my skin more than the other one? You’re not making any sense right now.”

Cassian was shaking his head before she finished her sentence and moving forward. “No, no. You have to use both colours, blend them until you get the right shade for your skin. It won’t be a perfect match, but it’ll still look more convincing than... _t_ _hat_.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes to the heavens. The mission hadn’t even started and here it was, already grating on her nerves. “Are you going to just stand there or actually help?”

“I’ll help.” Cassian plucked the box from her hands, sitting before her on the bed. “Can I see that?”

Jyn obligingly shoved her leg forward so that her foot rested close to his side, tucking her other leg under her thigh to make room for him. He accepted the space offered, so her half-done kneecap was right beside him as he popped the box open and meticulously set to work.

After...blending the colours, or whatever, he paused before he touched the brush to her skin.

“Is this okay?”

She shrugged in affirmative, not seeing the problem with it. Sure, it was a bit of an awkward position and they were seated very close, but it wasn’t like she didn’t trust him. And it wasn’t like any awkwardness she felt wasn’t a worthwhile sacrifice for the mission’s sake.

Jyn immediately had second thoughts about the awkwardness being worth it when Cassian had to gently hold onto the kneecap he was working with to keep it steady.

She was keenly, acutely, _indisputably_ aware of how exposed the so-called dress left her. For kriff’s sake, her bare legs were laid out before him and the one-piece was cut so high it ended where her thighs began, and _fuck._

Cassian took his hand off, leaning back a fraction to study his handiwork. She looked as well. He’d done an admirable job, all things considered- she could still tell it was patched up, but nobody who didn’t get into her personal space would note the difference. Her skin looked strange, unblemished like that. It was as if one part of her past had been completely erased.

He coughed meaningfully into a fist.

“Anywhere else?”

“Yeah,” Jyn blurted, pulling her leg back instinctively. She tried to think of where else she needed patching up, but nothing came to her except for an unfortunate visual clue- on the same leg, she had a long and old gash running down the middle of her thigh. Knife wound that’d left behind a little more than broken skin.

Cassian noticed it at about the same time.

“Do you want to take care of that yourself?”

Kriff, kriff, kriff. Mother of _Banthashit_. She couldn’t do half the clean job he’d done on her kriffing kneecap, such a small area of skin. There was no way she could cover up a wound that big.

“No, you’d do it better,” she said, impressed with how unaffected her voice turned out. “If you want to?”

“I don’t mind,” said Cassian blandly, like this wasn’t embarrassing for him _at all_. She stretched her leg out again. He had to lean even further forward to get to work.

Jyn squeezed her eyes shut and tried to shift her thoughts away from wholly inappropriate paths, because she’d spent several nights in the recent past picturing having Cassian between her legs or his hands roaming up her thighs, and although at present he didn’t touch any place he didn’t have to or cross more boundaries than she’d offered, it was still far too close to those fantasies.

There was only one more area he needed to cover after that, on her right leg, and a few bruises along her arms needed a mild touch-up. She swung off the bed and focused on getting her boots on while he stored the box away, defiantly refusing to address the fact that her heart was racing and her cheeks felt heated.

Well. At least the kriffing Arabassi natives wore boots with their traditional dress, and not impractical sandals or the like.

When he appeared by her side before the door, prepared to go out, something occurred to her.

“How many weapons are you carrying?”

Cassian quirked an eyebrow at her, surprised by the inquiry. “A switchblade and a couple of gas capsules.”

Jyn fought to keep her expression from turning incredulous. “ _Gas capsules?_ ”

“To create a distraction, if we need it.” He leaned back on his good leg, his gaze on her now studying. “Why?”

“What do you mean, _why?_ ” She exclaimed. “You’re going out there with just a damn switchblade? You have only one weapon on your person and if it slips from your hands you’ll be left with zero.”

“It’s never been a problem before.”

“It’s never- mother of _Banthashit,_ how have you survived so long?”

She didn’t give him time to protest, snagging his hand and marching back into the room. Cassian looked dumbfounded, and she might’ve found that funny on any other occasion, but right now her nerves were alight with a feeling of _what the hell was he thinking?_

“Stay here,” she ordered, before disappearing into the ’fresher. She hauled her case of emergency weaponry out into the room, and Cassian looked like he was going to object, but she glared at him sharply and he thought better of it.

“Where’s your switchblade hidden?” she asked, coming to stand right before him. Her tone allowed no room for argument, as he was smart enough to detect, and he obligingly motioned at the garish waistband of his pants, which upon closer inspection appeared to have pockets on the inside.

Jyn hefted her case onto the bed, hazardously throwing it open. Really, what the hell was he thinking, going into the field without a blaster while not having any concealed weapons? Maybe he rarely got into sticky situations and maybe his missions rarely ended in physical confrontation, but no sentient could get by in this twisted galaxy without being prepared for bad fortune. She’d expected years with the rebellion to have taught him better.

She began swiping knives of different sizes from her case, and Cassian finally spoke again.

“I don’t think arming ourselves to the teeth will be necessary, Jyn.”

Jyn looked up at him with a scowl. “Never heard of having a contingency plan if everything goes to hell?”

He sighed, and he leaned on his good side again, making her heart beat just a bit faster. She hated being reminded of his injuries from Scarif, but she knew it was never going to stop him, and she couldn’t resolve anything by acknowledging the pain he tried in vain to hide. “They have security guards at the entrance to search us before we’re let in. You can’t hide more than one weapon from a full-body search.”

Jyn flicked a particularly vicious-looking blade closed. “You can’t?”

“It’s not possible, no. And it’s going to land us in deeper trouble, invite more suspicion, if an entire armoury is found in our clothes.”

She straightened, tossing the blade onto the bed. Met his eyes challengingly. “Go on, then. Search me.”

Cassian faltered, his eyes going wide. “What? Jyn, I-”

“I have four blades hidden on my person right now,” said Jyn, without flinching. She had a point to prove here. “If you can find even one of them, I’ll let you walk out that door with only your prized switchblade.”

For a second- only a second- Cassian looked unsure of himself, and swallowed nervously. But it was gone the next moment, replaced by his usual stoic calm, and she was left wondering whether she’d imagined the slip-up.

What was he nervous about, anyway, being proven wrong? She was good at hiding weaponry, and if he knew her at all he knew this wasn’t a challenge he could win.

He tilted his chin down in question. “Are you sure?”

She scoffed. “Of course. You’re not going to find anything.” She spread her arms out sideways, standing in an approximation of the position security officials asked for when they frisked you. “Go on.”

Cassian’s gaze traveled down her body, once, and quickly back up to meet her in the eye. “Boot.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Really? Which one?”

“It’s an obvious place.”

“But I don’t have a blade hidden there for that very reason.” She bent her knee, bringing her right leg to cross over her thigh so he could get a good look at the traditional boot made of fur and hide. _Untraditionally_ , however, it also had tiny sharp nubs fitted to the sole. “False bottom. Not suspicious, looks like an ordinary fashion statement, but going to make a pretty sharp impression on anything I kick.”

Cassian had the good grace to look mildly impressed, but that was about all the reaction she got before he nodded towards the waist of her one-piece. “I’m guessing there’s a star hidden somewhere there.”

Jyn snorted. “The security guards aren’t going to be searching for potential hiding places, Cassian, they’re just going to run over the surface of this dress and only get suspicious if their hands catch on something. They don’t have the time or a reason to strip every guest down to look properly.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But they’re going to find something when they do that.”

She defiantly set her jaw. “See for yourself.”

Cassian treated her to that half-questioning, half-incredulous look again before he nodded, taking a step closer. She raised her arms to the side again and stood still while he carefully patted her down for weapons.

On second thoughts...maybe asking Cassian to run his hands all over her body when she wasn’t wearing much to begin with was an _astonishingly_ stupid idea, but she really couldn’t regret something that would end up with him better equipped for surviving a mission.

His hands didn’t catch on anything. He stepped back, and she released the breath she’d involuntarily been holding.

“You’ve hidden them well,” he conceded. “I assume they all have coatings to fool the metal detectors?”

Jyn nodded, feeling more than a little smug at having won so easily. “I hope you remember our deal.”

Cassian’s lips twitched upwards in that small half-smile she was so familiar with. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“I don’t remember you objecting,” retorted Jyn, and, mirroring her smile, an actual smile this time, he stood still so she could find places to conceal her weapons on his person.

She showed him how to unsheath the blades for easy access and how to grip them without cutting himself before she tucked them neatly away in secure places. Her thin utility belt under his shirt carried most of them, hidden by the bunched fabric where the shirt was tucked in. A harmless-looking long cord around his neck, also tucked into his shirt, with an ornate folded vibroblade she’d slashed throats with. And finally, another slim belt, this time for him to wrap around his upper thigh while she politely turned the other way.

Cassian stepped out of the room after her, closing the door behind them. He gave her a look that translated to a thanks, because he couldn’t say anything out loud right now in a corridor they hadn’t swept for bugs, but she understood anyway.

She was only carrying four blades on her person, while Cassian had on him six weapons in total. The more hidden weapons, the greater chance they’d make it out alive if everything went to hell.

He held his arm out to her like the people they were imitating, and she took it. Even dressed like _this,_ looking ridiculous and pretending to be two people they were worlds away from, she never felt so alive as when they worked together, side by side, an infallible team.

At times when she allowed her mind to wander past cold reality, she felt like the two of them could take on the Empire by themselves.

 

It was a simpler affair than most of the Imperial parties he’d attended; for one, it was being held in an open stretch of town square, the larger radius around which had been completely cut off from civilians for security and exclusivity purposes, and the ground was neat gravel instead of marble or carpet. Bright lights were strung overhead, providing illumination in addition to the crescent moon and sky full of stars. If the town square and adjoining streets hadn’t been crowded with supporters of the Empire, the overall ambiance could’ve even passed for pleasant.

They’d spent an hour mingling with halfway-familiar Imperial faces, most of them junior officers looking for attention and eager to let slip details they didn’t know would be of value to potential rebel spies. He and Jyn were just biding their time until the signal came from the Alliance’s actual Arabassi contact, though; these scraps of information were merely a bonus that may or may not serve the rebel cause in some way, someday.

Keeping in line with their cover, they were never far apart, by all appearances a young merchant couple experiencing Imperial splendour for the first time together. A few known faces inquired about Sward’s new wife, asked when they had wedded and why they hadn’t been told sooner, all questions to which he had prepared answers, of course. Jyn didn’t talk to anyone when she didn’t have to- she was only playing the part of a working man’s passive wife, and he had a feeling that she even preferred it this way, where she didn’t need to interact with Imperials any more than strictly necessary. Their arrangement was ideal.

What was not ideal, however, was how utterly _distracted_ he was on their current assignment. His mind was geared to get back on track soon, distractions be damned, but tonight all it took to shatter his concentration was Jyn’s side pressed close to his, or the warmth of her skin when his hand rested on her lower back, or merely the sight of her bare legs through the gauze.

It helped to repeatedly remind himself that he had no right to look at her that way, because it wasn’t by _choice_ she was wearing the ridiculously open Arabassi dress and she wouldn’t approve of his thoughts anyway, but the memory of preparing for this mission an hour ago had yet to lose its impact on him.

He’d been prepared to assist her with the concealing makeup, of course, given that Jyn had probably never used it before, and so he’d easily kept himself focused on the task at hand rather than think about how close they were seated. Everything was fine.

Then Jyn had gone and asked him to check her for weapons. _Force help him_.

True to her assurances, the two of them had breezed past security with all the hidden weapons still in their clothes. Whenever they weren’t talking to Imperials or lingering in the shadows around an important conversation, he found it hard not to think about how it had felt to touch her, if a little awkwardly, with her permission. He wanted _more,_  wanted her permission for more. But if Jyn didn’t want...whatever the hell he was feeling, then he didn’t want it either, or at least he could pretend he didn’t and let go.

Jyn brought back a second glass of the native pink-coloured drink she’d finished fifteen minutes earlier, along with a glass for him. He accepted it graciously, gave her a playful mock-toast, and downed the glass with all of Joreth Sward’s acquired finesse.

He nearly broke cover to shoot her a look when the sickly-sweet drink sent his taste buds into sensory overload.

“What is this?”

Jyn shrugged, but he could tell that she’d seen him behind the cover and was trying to suppress a smile. “Some native fruit drink, I think. It was stored away from the alcohol, so I can only assume it’s not going to get us drunk.”

“It’s disgusting,” remarked Cassian mildly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “You’re on your second glass.”

She bumped him with her shoulder, pretending to look affronted. “Hey, I like it.”

“Well, thank you for introducing it to me, but I’m not having any more of it.”

Jyn rolled her eyes, bumping him again. “Suit yourself. You’ll regret this the next time we run out of sugar.”

Cassian tensed instinctively, but he was quick to relax again, realising the statement was a carefully-phrased one. She was, of course, talking about the short supply of condiments on Echo Base and how miserable the caf tasted without sweetening, but to anyone listening, she was just a chiding wife reminding her husband about restocking the shelves at home.

“I always go out to get more within two days,” he replied, a defensive husband, letting his unoccupied arm settle lightly around her waist. Jyn was used to the maneuver by now, they’d discussed it before the mission and she’d only flinched the first two times, but this time she more than passively allowed it; instead, she turned in the bracket of his arm, slightly, so her body was angled more towards his, and the sudden close heat of her skin made him take in a breath, though not obviously enough that she noticed.

“More like two weeks,” she quipped, in a softer voice. This close, he could make out the unusual golden flecks in her eyes, alluring him to get closer.

“Not much for sugar, anyway,” he murmured, and because he was an idiot, because he was so laughably _distracted_ lately, he turned to lightly brush his lips over the crown of her head.

Jyn froze up, her every muscle locking defensively, and a heightened awareness of their cover and their surroundings was the only thing that kept him from jerking away as if burned.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite Mid-Rim immigrant.”

Cassian feigned pleasant surprise when his eyes found the source of the voice, a middle-aged man in a Corporal’s uniform who approached them with a jovial smile. He held a tall glass of murky alcohol in one hand, and a shorter glass of the sweet fruit drink in the other. He raised the former in a mock toast as he came to stop before them.

“Joreth Sward. What in the Emperor’s good name landed you in Arabassi?”

Jyn leaned back against his arm again, relaxing- or at least, she looked relaxed and a little curious, like a woman who was about to be introduced to one of her husband’s friends, but he could feel the energy coiled in her muscles, ready to be released at any moment.

“I wasn’t going to miss out on the Empire’s new trade capital,” Sward said smoothly. “Did you really think so low of me, Cadence?”

The Imperial grinned something predatory. “No, I know you’re an ambitious one.” His eyes flicked down to Jyn, who’d- and Cassian was impressed- adorned a mask of the most blissful indifference, showing only a mild hint of interest. There was none of the disdain she harboured for pompous servants of the Empire. “And who is the lovely lady?”

“Ah, forgive me.” Cassian smiled apologetically, withdrawing his arm from around Jyn. “I believe introductions are in order. This is Janine Sward, my wife. Janine, sweetheart, this is Corporal Euston Cadence. We have worked together on a project in the past.”

“Indeed. And never seen each other since then, because Joreth here is what we call a slippery nomad.” The Imperial raised his glass of pink punch like he was about to offer another toast, but he instead poured a good half of the sweet syrup into his half-full flute of alcohol. Cassian didn’t glance down at Jyn, but he was willing to bet her expression momentarily shifted into mild disgust. “These merchant types. Never in the same place for too long. I’m surprised he’s managed to settle down with such a lovely woman. Do you accompany him on his every expedition, darling?”

“I have expeditions as well,” said Jyn civilly. “We are both merchants, Corporal.”

Cadence’s features turned surprised, if a little disbelieving. “No! Are you sure? Darling, you look too lovely to be doing _trading work_.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” muttered Jyn, but Cassian cut in with Joreth’s hearty laugh as if she was joking.

“That is what I thought, Cadence,” he looped his arm back around Jyn’s waist, but this time he did it in the hopes of being a grounding presence, reminding her of the cover she had to keep up. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I ran into Janine in Port Zed, two years ago. What a woman! What is she doing _here?_ Perhaps she’s seeking company.”

“You have wonderful ways of approaching women,” said Jyn sweetly, but he could detect the undercurrent of sarcasm and impatience in her voice. She was tired of this Imperial; he wasn’t worth their time, they weren’t getting anything useful out of him, and he was grating on her nerves to top it all off. She wanted him to worm his way out of this conversation so they could go back to the mission.

“Yes, wonderful,” Joreth flashed the man a suggestive smile. “We hit it off right away. Been married for six months, now.”

“Six and a half,” Jyn dutifully reminded him, because the specifics might be important to some other wife, in a different world from theirs.

“Of course, sweetheart, that’s what I meant.” He pressed another kiss to the crown of her head, firmer and with purpose this time, because it’s what Sward would’ve done. Like he anticipated, this time she didn’t flinch. He looked back up at the Corporal. “If you’ll excuse us, Corporal, we were on our way to the dance floor. Janine is anxious to get a dance in before this band is replaced by the other one. Women, you know?”

Jyn definitely did _not_ appreciate that he’d have to direct them to a dance now, which was of even less important to the mission than idle chat with a useless Imperial, but on missions like this it was important to keep moving and truly blend in. Do what everyone else was doing, be unremarkable. It wasn’t costing them large shards of intel by not talking to other Imperials because that wasn’t the sole directive of their mission tonight- it would cost them significantly more if even one wrong person realised that Sward and his new wife hadn’t even danced for the night, or if the only thing they did was move from officer to officer, like a merchant couple that was bizarrely keen on getting them to talk rather than enjoy a lavish party at the Empire’s expense.

Cadence drained his flute of gross combination before nodding in understanding. “Yes, yes, women don’t grace these functions just to talk with their husbands’ friends. Go on then, both of you. Nice seeing you again, Joreth. We’ll probably be at the end of our lives the next time we meet.”

“I look forward to it,” said Cassian, extending a hand to shake in farewell. The Imperial faltered for a moment, clumsily switched one of his glasses to the other hand, and accepted the gesture with all the grace of a bantha swinging after its own tail.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jyn snaked an arm around his waist and pressed herself closer under the pretence of kissing his cheek, but the moment she got close enough she hissed, “ _What the hell_ , Cassian?”

He turned around to kiss her cheek, to all observers a man simply returning an affectionate gesture, but it was another warning and reminder to stay on track. She couldn’t afford to use his real name; she couldn’t afford to break cover.

Jyn pulled her arm away furiously but she didn’t say anything else. She didn’t look his way as she continued to stride by his side, her face a determined, annoyed mask that fixated on the path ahead.

Could casual onlookers tell they were fighting? Maybe Sward had said something that ticked Janine off, and they could fall back on that, but Jyn didn’t seem to be in the mood to cooperate with his plans. He berated himself for not explaining to her properly how this kind of mission could go and the whole aspect of hiding their time without doing anything significant. He owed her an explanation after this, but she was also going against the things he _had_ warned her about- maintaining the cover always, always schooling your expression so you didn’t appear to be something you weren’t pretending to be. He had warned her of the risks.

Another realisation hit him, hard. Could her anger be because he’d crossed a line? They had discussed the casual displays of affection they needed to put on, but if he had overstepped and made her uncomfortable, allowed some of what _he_ personally wanted to show through the cover, she had every right to be angry.

He felt sick. Had he done something to abuse her trust? Had he given away what he felt, and scared her or made her uncomfortable?

“Stop,” said Jyn, her voice snapping him out of his spiralling thoughts. “Here. This is a good spot.”

He blinked, confused for a second and then-

 _Oh_.

They were standing at the edge of the smooth carpet of road that made the dance floor, under warm, hazy lights of red and gold. Jyn was wearing Janine’s face again, with a smile and an open posture like she was with the man she loved and trusted, proposing a dance to the slow music that washed over them. Regained her composure fast.

He couldn’t touch her. Not now, not ever again. He had crossed a line and he felt sick, quivering with the urgent need to apologise, to find some free space devoid of Imperials to break his cover and tell her he was sorry, so sorry, that he’d understand if she wanted to call it quits on this mission and not work with him again.

“Hey, this was your idea,” said Jyn, only for him to hear, drawing closer. “So, how do we do this?”

He closed his eyes. “We don’t. Not if you don’t want to.”

Jyn snorted, but it sounded good-humoured. Jyn, or Janine? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “No, you don’t get to back out now. Hold me or something. We can figure it out from there.”

The couple dancing nearest to them were swaying serenely in one another’s arms, enjoying a private moment together, definitely not thinking themselves in hostile company. He could tell they were locals- probably contractors, like they were pretending to be, or engaged in one of the white-collar administrative jobs the Empire offered on their planet. Jyn’s gaze darted to them, to the rest of the dance floor, and back again.

“That looks easy,” she observed. “We could pull that off.”

He finally took a step forward so there was less than a handspan’s distance between them, forcing his body into action. He couldn’t just stand waiting for her to call it off, not when it would draw a lot of unnecessary attention, and not when Cadence could be watching them. One dance, and that was it. After, he was going to apologise to Jyn and try to figure out where he went wrong.

He kept his hands respectfully at her waist, mindful that he didn’t even accidentally slip them any higher or lower, and Jyn, looking at the other couple from the corner of her eye for reference, hesitantly brought her arms around his neck.

“Eyes on me,” he said, for only her to hear.

Jyn dragged her gaze back and up to him, meeting his eyes, and gave him a minute nod. He started to move, swaying with the music, his eyes never leaving hers. It was important that they maintain eye contact. Newly-married couples were supposed to be absorbed in one another, especially if they were partaking in something as intimate as a slow dance.

But it was distracting, because while Jyn Erso’s eyes had star-like specks of gold, looking directly into them was a little like looking directly at the sun. Highly inadvisable, blinding in its intensity, with a strange pull to it that just made you keep looking back.

The thin layer of gossamer fabric stretched over her waist was warm under his palms and he longed more than anything to let go. Nothing about this was right. If Jyn had asked him as herself to touch her, he would’ve gladly listened, but Jyn had asked as an alias and only for the sake of a mission.

Still, she looked stunning under the lights. She looked stunning, anyway, in her own skin, and when she was in her element, on normal days. Whenever she faced off against a squad of stormtroopers at once with nothing but a truncheon and a balster, whenever she ‘motivated’ her recruit class to improve their hand-to-hand by nearly knocking their teeth off, and whenever she wandered into the mess hall long past the busy hours just to keep him company.

Jyn’s eyes dropped down, and she curved her arms tighter around his neck, letting her forehead rest against his clavicle. He heard her breathe in shakily.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” muttered Jyn. “Yeah, just…”

It took all of his willpower not to tuck his chin over her head, not to get even closer than they already were. “Something wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just think we aren’t being convincing.” She lifted her head, pulling back so they were back in the first position, and tilted her head to the side. His eyes trailed along the direction she was indicating.

The couple closest to them was now engaged in a heated kiss, their hands straying towards barely-appropriate places, and it didn’t take long for him to realise that several of the couples in their vicinity were in various stages of public displays of affection, or at the very least, highly...sensual dancing practices. Going off of the drinks being freely distributed by service droids around the dance floor, he had a pretty good hint as to why.

“We should grab some drinks,” he agreed, pulling back a fraction, but not completely. “Service droid passed this place two times already.”

Jyn nodded, because that was...well, it was easier to feign having a flirty conversation over two flutes of wine than holding each other in a vague approximation of a dance.

Sure enough, the droid wheeled over to them, programmed to wait beside the people it was serving to for at least ten seconds before seeking the next guest. This particular droid had been set on a loop to go around one area several times, because Imperial parties overflowed with alcohol and it would a pity and poor treatment of guests to not deplete the stock in one night.

Cassian picked up two tall glasses, intending to hand the second one over to her, but he caught sight of Jyn reaching for a glass of the pink fruit drink from the far end of the tray.

He raised an eyebrow, and placed the second glass back. He waited for the service droid to wheel off in search of its next recipients to ask a very pertinent question.

“Are you sure that isn’t addictive?”

Jyn took a generous slurp before licking her lips and answering him.

“No, it’s just has some kind of nectar. Been used instead of sugar.” She offered him her glass. “Come on, try it. You’re never going to get the opportunity again.”

He quirked an eyebrow, but accepted her offering nevertheless. Jyn seemed...she seemed to have forgiven him for his misstep, or at least let it go for the moment, because this was what they were better used to- easy conversation and comfortable pauses, even in the midst of the enemy.

Cassian made a face when the same shock of sweetness from before rushed into his taste buds, but he made himself keep drinking.

“This is truly horrendous,” he informed her, handing back the glass, and his heart soared a little when she flashed him a grin before plucking it from his hands.

“It’s called an acquired taste,” she quipped, sipping again. She pulled her lips off the edge of the glass, inspecting the half left, and held a hand out to him expectantly.

He cautiously set his upturned palm over it, letting her close his fingers around the glass.

He sighed, but didn’t object. Jyn was probably only making him have it because she didn’t want to finish it and be the one to have to put the empty glass away. It was a peeve of hers, he knew; if there a canister of blue milk in the ship’s cooler on a long hyperspace journey, Jyn refused to touch it no matter how much she craved it if it was the last few ounces left. Something about not wanting to take the canister to the recycling bin afterwards. She had an ongoing challenge with Bodhi, who had the same strange reservation, where each of them would try to snag whatever that was in the cooler before the stock got close to running out.

Cassian finished her drink and walked to the nearest table to set it down. She looked a little too pleased with herself when he got back.

“I know what you did,” he informed her, but her expression turned innocent.

“Me? You’re being dramatic.”

It surprised him, then, when Jyn seamlessly slipped back into character, under Janine’s mask again, slipping her arms around his neck again.

“You still owe me a dance before this band goes away,” she said near his ear.

He mentally berated himself. He’d let Joreth disappear behind Cassian for too long- even if their exchange had been brief, it had been _them_ , and that should never be allowed to happen on a mission such as this.

He placed his hands back on her waist and pulled her closer.

 

Jyn didn’t know how they’d got to this point.

She was tipsy, she figured. She shouldn’t be- _couldn’t_ \- because of the anti-intoxicant they’d both taken beforehand, and because she hadn’t been drinking _anyway-_ but what other explanation could there possibly be for her asking Cassian to dance again? They’d had the perfect excuse to leave the floor, if they’d just continued with their easy conversation and walked away sharing a drink. It was natural, it _looked_ natural, like they’d just found a better way to entertain themselves than dancing.

Then he had left to deposit the empty glass, and she…

Well, she’d missed him.

Not in the sense that she’d _missed_ him, of course. She _missed_ him when he had to leave Base on a solo mission, split up from their crew. She _missed_ him when she had her recruit class and no one worth bantering with.

Alright, she was lying to himself- she’d missed his proximity. His hands on her waist, his warmth, that kriffing, unbelievable intensity in his gaze which he refused to rip from her for some Forcedamn reason—

So what had she gone and done? Invited him to touch her again, of course. Jyn had never known herself to be so stupid, even when she badly wanted something, so that had to mean she’d had too much to drink...save for the anti-intoxicant and harmless fruit juice, that is.

She concentrated on the steps of the dance, because this one was a little more complex than the last and it gave her something else to focus one. His hand was warm against the small of her back, his other hand clasped in hers, and again, his eyes didn’t leave hers. They were moving in small circles, in back-and-forth movements, Cassian taking the lead with all the grace of someone who’d done this before. He probably had. At this point, Jyn couldn’t even be surprised.

He lifted her hand up above their heads and she turned, with little to no finesse, before landing back against him with a wince, and he gently let go of her hand to trail both of his down to her waist, meeting lightly around her midsection.

She leaned back against him, trying to at least take comfort in his presence. Cassian had changed course with this dance- he’d been able to tell she felt awkward with mimicking the formal ballroom-style the Imperials were entranced with, so he had turned this into something more casual, their movements now limited to slow swaying as they pretended to be caught up in each other. A good idea, on his part. But he was maddeningly close, too much heat radiating from where she felt the length of his body pressed against her back, his stubble grazing her bare shoulder and his lips only inches from her skin.

Jyn kept her eyes closed and allowed her muscles to relax. She couldn’t afford to look so uncomfortable and tense when Cassian approached this with all the ease of someone who was genuinely living in the moment.

 _Kriff it_ , she decided. It was still him, buried under that alias. Joreth Sward may have been a man she would never in a million years let touch her, but not Cassian. She trusted Cassian, and she _wanted_ this. From him. From him without an alias, but if pretending this was Cassian and not Sward would do more to enhance her cover than compromise it, she didn’t see why not.

So when he came close again, turning his jaw into her neck, she made room for him. Allowed a sigh to escape her lips, and turned her own head to nuzzle his cheek when he pulled back.

His arms tightened around her fractionally, unintentionally bringing her body to press more firmly against him. The quiet gasp that caught in her throat was real.

The rational part of Jyn decided that she really, really didn’t like the Arabassi’s traditional dress, but a bigger part of her was compelled to accept that the sparks shooting up her spine was a result of having so little in the way between skin on skin.

The music was picking up. All around them, protected by the haze of the red and gold lights, couples were getting a lot more adventurous. Drunk, probably, but it probably also had something to do with the crass music, now some song with words in Basic that was full of obscenities. This wasn’t an overly formal Imperial party, so it was to be expected- most of everyone here were locals, loyal citizens of the Empire, and this wasn’t a carpeted hall, it was a closed-off street.

Their tender excuse for a dance stood out like a mole.

“This song,” Cassian murmured by her ear, “is giving me a headache.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, fondness washing over her being. Yeah, Cassian was in there alright, lifting up the mask of Joreth Sward for a moment to address her as himself. She turned around to face him, so her chest was inches away from his and his hands had to reposition to her lower back.

She slipped her arms back around his neck. “I think the really fast bit is about...I don’t know, some sex act?”

She almost thought she saw him blush. Almost. But she had to be mistaken, because not only was Cassian masterful at maintaining his composure, he was also used to her oftentimes dirty sense of humour.

“The whole song is about sex,” he pointed out.

Oh, no, he was _definitely_ embarrassed. His composed expression didn’t break, but she could see the corners of his eyes crinkle a little and a faint dust of colour on his cheeks.

Jyn grinned, pulling herself even closer to make double sure that no one else would hear them.

“What say you, Captain? Think you can... _eat her out like a full-course_ _meal?_ ”

Cassian shot her a look, and there it was, the hint of a real smile, even while he looked incredulous that she was quoting the song.

“These lyrics are interesting. What the hell is a _roundhouse fuck?_ ”

“ _Jyn._ ”

“Why does he think all the fem-beings in the galaxy are after him? There’s a bigger chance of the Empire being after him, if you ask me.”

He barked a laugh. “Because he thinks he’s good at going down on them?”

Jyn blinked in surprise, but she noted the now-obvious colour creeping up his neck and realised that he was certainly mortified but enjoying this back-and-forth nevertheless.

“Well...forgive me if I can’t believe every man who makes that claim,” she rolled her eyes with good humour. “I haven’t known anyone to be successful.”

Cassian choked on whatever he was about to say next, decided to settle her with a meaningful glare, and didn’t quite meet her eyes when he muttered, “Understandable. I’ve been told that it’s a gift.”

Jyn was over the moon with the discovery that Cassian Andor, the rebellion’s golden spy, a man who’d been through so much and seen the worst half the galaxy and been to its seediest corners, was embarrassed with conversation about crude _song lyrics,_ and while she was eternally grateful for the chance to make him smile and poke fun at him, his latest response prompted her mind to turn in a different direction.

She tried to quash those thoughts immediately. This was _not_ the time and place to wonder if Cassian was one of those _gifted_ people, or to picture his head between her legs, her fingers tightening in his soft hair, his stubble scraping against her skin while his tongue worked wonders—

Her own face felt terribly hot, and she could only hope that he didn’t notice her thighs clench involuntarily, either.

His hands shifted from her lower back to her hips, possibly only because it was a safer place, but the high-cut one piece wasn’t helping and the skirt was so thin he might as well have touched the bare skin at the tops of her thighs. Her arms tightened around his neck in response. She didn’t know where else she could put them.

“Do you want…” Cassian’s voice came out hoarse, so he swallowed and corrected himself. “Do you want to stop?”

 _No, I most certainly don’t want you to stop,_ provided her brain helpfully. _I want you to pull me into you, let me feel you, run your hands down my ass, reach under this skirt and—_

“Yes,” she squeaked. A most undignified response, but a problem for another time.

He leaned in close to her ear, closer. “When this song is over, if that’s okay?”

The skin at the back of her neck prickled with something like anticipation, though she didn’t know what exactly she was expecting.

“Yes.” Her palms drifted down to his chest, to the feather-soft silk of his shirt.

His hands on her hips pulled her in and he picked up his space, and they didn’t touch anywhere less appropriate, Cassian made sure of that, but he was still going for the impression that they were dancing like everyone else.

And Jyn, she…

She didn’t know what came over her, what prompted her to breach that careful gap he was trying so hard to maintain. All she registered was his sharp intake of breath when her hips slanted against his and she thought, _yes._

For the first time that night, and for the first time in general, Cassian slid his hands down her lower back until they came to rest over the light fabric that shielded her ass.

“Jyn,” he said tightly, and she would’ve been more stunned that he broke cover _again_ , now, was she not more focused on the feel and the heat of him, closer than he’d even been, the entire length of his body pressed to hers.

She grinded against him and he audibly swallowed, but she didn’t let up and she _felt_ how much this was affecting him through the tight black pants traditional for the men of this sector. Her head pounded, most mental function fleeing to leave her lightheaded and gleeful.

She rolled her hips against his boldly, and his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, blunt nails threatening to leave indents through the flimsy skirt. He dropped his chin to her shoulder. He turned his head and skimmed his lips over her hammering pulse.

Kriff’s sake, when had she become so _irresponsible?_ Not that it mattered now, with the way he was responding to this, clearly wanting it as much as she did, with the way her heartbeat drowned out the sound of the crass, tasteless music.

“Jyn,” he breathed against her neck, and she shivered. “My proxy.”

She ran her palms further down, down until they rested over his abdomen, where she felt her hidden weapons before his skin.

“My contact is signalling.”

She drew back, startled by the sudden reminder of _reality,_  and Cassian’s flushed face was replaced with something distant and unaffected in the blink of an eye. He cleared his throat, letting go and stepping back, bringing into being the courteous distance of before.

He didn’t need to say anything. She slipped her arm through his and followed him off the dance floor, like Joreth and Janine were done here.

They walked far, pretending well enough like nothing unusual had happened, and it probably looked suspicious that they were getting so intimate before and now didn’t so much as let a stray hand wander, but the warmth in her veins was replaced by a familiar kind of dread.

_What the hell had they done?_

Cassian stopped them in their tracks at any empty table, and leaned over to give her a casual peck on the cheek. She reflexively stiffened.

“If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, go back to the hotel and prepare for extraction,” he whispered. “Don’t come after me unless you have back up.”

Jyn opened her mouth to object, ask why she couldn’t just go with him in the first place- but the look he shot her was answer enough. He’d meant it when he’d explained his plan for this mission. They were both better off if she stayed behind, as a contingency.

So she gritted her teeth and agreed. When he leaned back, a flash of...something crossed his features before it was shut down under his neutral mask. Out loud he said, “Excuse me, darling, I’ll be right back,” in Joreth’s voice with a smile before leaving in the direction of the ’fresher stalls, far down the end of the crowded street, and she had to resist the urge to track him until he disappeared from sight.

Jyn slumped into a plush white chair, looking for all the world like a woman who was merely spent after an evening of dancing and socialising. She snagged a drink from the nearest server droid threw the sickly-sweet liquid down her throat.

She began to count the minutes.

 

Cassian’s contact was an Alliance operative stationed on Arabassi for the long-term, posing as personal assistant to a rich native who did frequent dealings with the Empire. He apparently had a chip of intel that couldn’t be risked transmitting on Imperial frequencies to reach the Alliance, and the best way to get it off-world was via an Alliance agent themselves.

He kept at an unhurried pace as he made his way through the crowds. His thoughts were scattered. Cassian had never before been so distracted during a mission, especially one that required his complete concentration to maintain a cover that couldn’t afford to be compromised. When Kay had brought the possibility of Jyn Erso being a distraction prior to the mission, he’d waved him off.

_Jyn is a capable agent. I am not easily distracted._

Except he’d been _all manners of_ distracted right from the start of the mission. Seeing Jyn in the native Arabassi dress. Which was _stupid,_ because he really shouldn’t be put off by a mere display of skin. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, either. He’d visited seedy establishments the galaxy over. He’d met contacts in brothels and drug dens. He had never before so much as blinked an eyelid in the direction of naked skin or far more brash displays of sexuality.

Which brought him to the rather alarming conclusion that maybe it was just Jyn.

Jyn, who’d been a constant presence by his side since Scarif. Who possessed a spark that reminded him of the resilience of the rebellion, who could take down a squad of ’troopers with brute force, whom he had followed to almost certain death and would follow again if she asked him. He was an object snagged into her orbit, unable to resist her gravitational pull.

Tonight he’d been so afraid that he had crossed the line, got too close...but Jyn had surprised him by _wanting it,_ encouraging _more._

Still he tried to think back on the external factors that might have caused her unexpected behaviour. Was it alcohol that did it? If he remembered correctly, Jyn hadn’t touched more than one shot glass, and they were both on anti-intoxicants. All she _had_ taken copious doses of was the horrendously sweet native fruit nectar.

Could that be it? Could it also be the reason he hadn’t put up any resistance as well?

The ’fresher stalls were located inside a converted cargo container, far bigger and more luxurious than a one-time use warranted. A handful of stormtroopers stood a distance behind it, guarding the perimeter, their backs turned to him. The small binary proxy in his pocket buzzed against his thigh to indicate that this was indeed where the signal was coming from.

Cassian stepped into the cargo container, the insides of which were lit up and ornately decorated with gold-framed mirrors that ran along the wall before five sinks and five stalls. It was air-conditioned, too, and he discreetly swept the hair from his eyes as he passed the row of mirrors. His reflection was strange, the traditional clothing unsuited to his thin frame. Jyn looked stunning, and he looked like he’d gone hungry for days.

He shoved the thought aside. He wasn’t in this disguise to look _good;_ he was here to look play a part, and nobody would think him conspicuous if he only carried himself like Joreth Sward.

Two of the five stalls were occupied. One was his contact. He took one of the middle stalls and waited, listening for the other two.

His contact would walk out and start to wash his hands, then he’d do the same, make some small talk, and extract the chip with the intel. It was a simple, seamless transaction, and it would be ideal if the Alliance hadn’t had to waste its time and credits to attend this party for it, but said contact was in deep cover and couldn’t meet up any other way.

So many risks, he thought. For an exchange that they could otherwise carry out anywhere else. Jyn had been more than a little perplexed at this system.

He soon enough got to know that the occupied stall in the far end certainly wasn’t the one his contact had taken. No, the guttural sounds and loud panting presented a rather unwelcome assertion which meant he had to get out of here fast. It was best not to be seen by a pair of Imperials who’d likely take his presence here as a personal insult and go after him for fear of getting reported.

Finally, the door of the other stall clicked, and he heard the sound of running water. Incidentally, the noises from the far-end stall came to an abrupt stop, like they were only just realising they weren’t alone.

Knowing a time-sensitive risk when he saw one, Cassian immediately joined his contact before the mirrors and opened one of the taps. His contact fished a datacard from his suit pocket- because Imperial officials were required to be in uniform- and passed it over to him. He’d just secured it in the belt also holding Jyn’s loaned weapons when the other door opened.

His contact and himself pretended not to acknowledge the newcomer, rinsing off their hands. He asked his contact to pass him a napkin from the dispenser with all the politeness of a stranger. The newcomer stalked closer. Cassian lifted his eyes up to the mirror in disinterest, like he’d noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

The Arabassi Governor stared back coldly.

“Good evening, sir,” he said with a courteous nod, turning the faucet off.

The man seemed to relax, realising that Cassian knew nothing, but the steely look didn’t quite leave his gaze. He walked up to the adjoining sink and washed his hands.

“You as well,” he said gruffly.

That should’ve been it. His contact turned to leave, and he nearly got the chance to follow suit—

But the galaxy really had a way of throwing him into the most ridiculous situations, because that was the same moment the Governor’s subordinate exited the stall.

Time froze as every party in the room recognised the situation.

Cassian maintained his neutral mask, anyway, and followed his contact out through the door. Compared to the cold air inside the cargo container, it was stuffy outside.

They walked briskly away from the refresher space, hoping to cover the empty distance between here and the thick of the party in record time.

“You there! Halt!”

His contact stopped in his tracks, because he knew he had protection against whatever the Governor was hoping to charge him with. He worked for a top-ranking Imperial and he knew for certain that his employer could get him out of this mess, but the same could not be said for Cassian. The Governor of Arabassi had almost absolute power over its civilians, and according to intel reports, had a penchant for making people ‘disappear’.

Cassian bolted.

At least five of the ten Stormtroopers on perimeter guard-duty were on his trail and he slowed down, not causing a scene, as he slinked into the crowded party. Distantly he registered how utterly _ridiculous_ his predicament was- their mission had actually just got a whole lot more difficult because an Imperial didn’t want someone ratting him out for receiving a blowjob.

He slid seamlessly between the throngs of people, pausing even to smile at anybody who recognised him, seemingly unaware of the commotion the sudden appearance of Stormtroopers was causing at the fringes of the crowd. There were many dressed similar to him, so there was a good chance he could get Jyn and exit the premises alongside the other leaving guests. From the corner of an eye he spotted her- and she’d taken note of the ’troopers, doubtless coming to the conclusion that it had something to do with him, and while she pretended to be a startled party-goer he could tell that her muscles were locked up defensively and she was seconds away from pulling out a vibroblade.

He appeared at her side, linking his elbow through hers.

“We have to go,” he muttered. “Don’t look back.”

She straightened, visibly relaxing- but he could tell she was still ready to strike- before turning with him and walking toward the alleymouth. Cassian tensed when he heard the loud radio chatter over ’trooper comms.

_“Traditional dress— white shirt—black hair—”_

The tastefully decorated exit came into view. Ruining the image, however, was a squadron of bucketheads in stark white armour holding comms that chirped out a description of the man they were looking for.

Cassian pulled Jyn back around the corner, which was mercifully still empty.

“What happened?” she demanded.

His eyes darted around the line of closed-up buildings behind them, and the brightly-lit party behind.

“Saw the Governor with a subordinate.”

“What does _that_ mean?” hissed Jyn.

They didn’t have time for this. “Can you get this door open?”

“Move.” Jyn all but shoved him aside, getting to work on the ancient keypad. It bordered on the verge of absurd that the Imperials had asked all these establishments to close down for the night so they could host their lavish street party, but _absurd_ was a generous term to describe the mess they were currently in. It took her less than ten seconds to slice the locking mechanism. She cast a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone was looking their way before pushing him inside and following, closing the door firmly behind them.

The modest wooden interior of the restaurant they found themselves in was a welcome difference from the pompous glamour just outside, but if the ’troopers weren’t stupid, this row of buildings would be the next place they looked.

Jyn sliced the lock a second time from the inside, jamming it securely so they were locked in. She turned to him, awaiting further instruction.

“Up here,” he said, pointing at the flight of stairs. “If we’re lucky this building will have a rooftop. If not, we’ll have to find a good place to hide until this passes.”

“Why the hells,” Jyn gestured at the door. “Is _that_ happening?”

Cassian sighed, dropping his shoulder in defeat. “I had the misfortune of being present in the ’fresher while the Governor of Arabassi was engaged in an illicit affair with a subordinate.”

Jyn choked. “ _What?_ ”

He started up the stairs, her rushing to catch up.

When they rounded the second floor, Cassian caught her expression, and it looked like Jyn was trying everything in her power not to laugh.

“They sent Stormtroopers after you...because you witnessed some guys _fucking?_ ”

He shot her a poisonous look. “I did not witness anything, no. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Holy _shit._ ” Jyn grinned so wide that her teeth glinted in the dark. “They locked the whole venue down because you _cockblocked_ them.”

“I’m glad you find the humour in the situation,” quipped Cassian, but he really couldn’t be annoyed when Jyn was clearly enjoying the bizarre turn of events, even if it meant both their lives were at risk. “The Governor is very powerful. Fortunately I don’t think he will be able to remember my face, and he doesn’t know my name, so on the plus side this identity will still be intact if we make it out of this.”

“And we will,” said Jyn, more sober this time. “We will make it out of this.”

She squeezed his hand, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Yes. They would. They only needed to find a way out of this trap.

They did eventually emerge on a rooftop, finding themselves again exposed to the night outside. The noise of music from far below was faint, nothing to the whistling of the wind up here. Jyn irritably tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear every few seconds.

With the buildings pressed close together with connected walls, it was simply a matter of minding your step when crossing over from one rooftop to the next.

There was something otherworldly and surreal about the journey, with Jyn’s hand in his and the wind whipping in their faces. He tried not to pay attention to the giddiness bubbling in his chest, and the urge to laugh whenever he caught her mirroring smile.

He couldn’t say if this was the most unusual thing to happen tonight, but when they stopped at the last rooftop, establishing that they were well away from the party and the gates guarded by Stormtroopers was far behind them, he decided it may be his favourite.

They headed down the flight of stairs into the building, an apartment complex with creaky floors, treading lightly so as not to alert whatever security they may have, and emerging safely and easily onto the street after Jyn sliced the last lock between them and freedom.

Her hand slipped back into his as they casually strolled along the street, staying that way right up until the moment they reached their hotel room door.

The first thing Jyn did was rip off the gossamer skirt.

She shrugged. “It was getting itchy.”

Cassian dipped his head in acknowledgment, settling back against the desk...and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.

The euphoria of their escape had worn off and he’d come back down from his high, and Jyn was giving him a look of concern and uncertainty from where she was perched on the edge of the bed.

Cassian knew what this was. They’d been here before, on this precipice, a single step away from crossing a line, but they’d always...drawn right back. Kept their distance. Like there was an unspoken agreement between them that they would never pass over that threshold.

He knew what that was, too. They’d been circling around each other since Scarif, and Kay wasn’t totally wrong when he said that Jyn Erso was capable of distracting him. She did much more than distract him; she made him yearn for things he could never have.

Sometimes he could even believe that she felt the same way about him. Right now was one of those times.

He should call off the staring match and head into the ’fresher. By the time he got back, that crevice would open up between them again and the opportunity to cross the line would be long gone. He _should_ go. Pretend nothing but an ordinary mission happened the last few hours. Jyn, he knew, would easily do the same.

“Cassian.”

He nearly startled at the sound of his name, penetrating the oppressive stretch of silence that filled the room. Jyn averted her gaze when his focus sharpened on her.

She cleared her throat, and he could’ve sworn the faintest of blushes touched her cheeks when she spoke next.

“I don’t think I was entirely...in my right mind, before. When we danced.” She licked her lips. “And I think that fruit punch had something in it. I wasn’t drunk, but it felt...it felt like it? I didn’t mean to get into your personal space like that.”

That was...hardly the thing he expected to hear. “ _Fruit punch?_ ”

“Yeah, look, I don’t know.” Jyn threw her arms up defensively. “I think it was some kind of intoxicant. There was this Imperial woman who waltzed up to my table when you left and tried to make small talk. She found it hilarious that I didn’t know this drink was a...a, ah, it had...look, maybe she was bullshitting me, but she insisted it had aphrodisiacal properties and if you had too much of it you’d get horny and…” She trailed off, burying her face in her palms. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

He stared, dumbstruck.

“It’s worn off, I promise,” said Jyn, though she sounded all manners of miserable. “I’m not going to get all touchy again. I really didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again.”

Why had none of the intel reports on Arabassi made mention of this? It was the sort of seemingly-innocent external factor that could costed an operation dearly, especially if the operative didn’t realise its damage while consuming it. He was going to have a word about this Draven as soon as they returned to Base.

So that was indeed why Jyn had been acting so strange. Why he’d gotten so close to losing his own self-control during that dance.

“Cassian?”

He snapped back to the present, the quietness in her voice setting alarms off in his head.

Jyn’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she cast her eyes downward.

“It’s okay. You have every right to be pissed.”

“No.”

She looked up. “You’re not?”

“No, I-” Cassian faltered. He didn’t want her to think he was angry, but he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to respond to this revelation in the first place. His mind was still working overtime to process everything she’d just said. _Fruit punch. Aphrodisiac. Intoxicant._ “I don’t blame you.”

Jyn nodded, tightly, her features closing off. This was the end of it. They were going to back off from the precipice, go back to where they were before and write this off as an embarrassing incident that they both wanted to forget…except he didn’t want to forget it.

Some stubborn, long-repressed part deep within his soul wanted desperately to tip over the edge. It wanted him to ask just one question.

“If it wasn’t for the drink…”

Cassian clenched his jaw and barely refrained from gritting out a curse. _Damn it_.

But it was too late. Jyn had heard him, and she was once again looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Forget it,” he muttered, turning the other way, grabbing his nightshirt from the neat pile on the table and heading toward the ’fresher. He had one foot through the threshold of the door when he felt his sleeve being snagged.

Jyn used that unassuming upper-body strength of hers to bring him back into the room, pulling him close enough so she could trap him with her gaze. Her eyes were _searching_ , brows bent into a stress line, and he couldn’t help but flinch. She saw too much of him. She anyway did, more than he allowed most people, but for her to have this truth, too, would have repercussions for the both of them.

“Cassian, if it wasn't for the drink _what?_ ”

Don’t answer. Play it off. Ignore the question and get away.

Despite the sound of the louder voice in his head, Cassian found himself indulging the stubborn part of his soul and answering, “Would you have done it?”

Jyn visibly swallowed, her grip on his sleeve loosening. “I don’t understand.”

She understood very well, but he had to make sure they were on the same page here.

“If it wasn't for the drink would you have done the same thing?” He turned his back completely to the door so he was facing her at his full height. “I need to know, Jyn. Please don’t keep me guessing.”

Jyn met his questioning eyes with her characteristic defiance, although he could tell she was as shaken by this turn of conversation as he.

“What do you want me to say?”

Of course she would invariably turn the tables in her favour _again_.

But he was done. He was done running from this and he was tired enough that he wanted to reach some kind of resolution, whatever it would turn out to be. So he stopped vetting his words and answered honestly.

“That you want to cross this line with me.”

Jyn froze, her grip going slack on his wrist.

He pulled back, stepping out of her reach as it dawned on him that he might’ve said the very worst thing.

What if he was reading this the wrong way and she wanted nothing to do with him? Had he just driven away the person who mattered most by wanting more than she was willing to give?

“Jyn, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Jyn pounced, crushing his body to hers in a tight hug, her arms locking around his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

“Cassian fucking Andor,” she muttered in his ear. “I have waited _ages_ for you to say those damn words.”

His every nerve was lit on fire.

The first kiss was messy, hurried, an inelegant clash of teeth first, but Jyn pulled back and cradled his head, taking control of the kiss this time when he chased after her. His arms slipped around her waist for better purchase, bringing her closer still as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss, eliciting a groan that he only felt and didn’t hear because it was lost in the press of her lips against his.

Jyn walked them backwards toward the bed, never once breaking the kiss. She turned them around so the back of his knees buckled against the edge of the mattress.

“J _yn,_ ” he breathed. “Jyn, are you sure-”

She kissed him, hard. “I’m sure. Extremely.” Her eyes dimmed the slightest bit, and she pulled away a fraction. “Unless you don’t want to? It’s alright, we can stop.”

The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was _stop_. Excitement and arousal both buzzed through his entire being with the fact that they were actually here, with the way Jyn had his knees up against the side of the bed. Still, he had to be certain of another thing.

“Are you...positive the intoxicant has worn off?”

Jyn laughed. “Y _es._  This isn’t the fruit punch speaking. I want you, Cassian. I have, for a while now.”

She lightly cupped his face and kissed him again, gently. His eyes dropped close of their own accord.

“Jyn,” he murmured. “Please.”

He felt the curve of her smirk against his cheek before she lightly shoved him onto the bunk, quickly settling on his legs to straddle him. It didn’t bother him that they were still wearing their boots. A problem for later.

Except when Jyn leaned forward to capture his lips again, her palms pressed into his thighs and…

“ _Kriff._ ” Cassian jerked back, startled by the press of cold metal against his skin. It only took him a second to register what that meant, and he groaned, dropping his head back into the pillow. “Jyn, the weapons.”

Jyn’s response was a colourful expletive in the native tongue of Ryloth.

“We should get them off before one of us gets injured.” She sighed, sitting back up. “Don’t want another stupid situation, like an army of ’troopers being sent after you because-”

" _Can you not?_ "

Jyn bit her lip, fighting a laugh. “Ruining the mood?" 

“One more mention of the Governor and you’ll be halfway there,” he retorted, reining in his own grin. He coaxed her off his lap. “Come on. Let’s get rid of the weapons _you_ insisted on planting everywhere.”

She rolled her eyes fondly, complying nevertheless. “I didn’t anticipate we’d be taking our clothes off in a hurry, did I?”

“Rule number one of the Undercover Operative Guidebook-”

Jyn kicked her boots off and rolled back onto him, hovering with her palms planted on either side of his head. “Who’s ruining the mood now, Captain?”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, and pretended a jolt didn’t go through him at her teasing tone of voice. “ _Captain_ , now is it?”

Of course she noticed, a slow smirk dawning across her face like sunrise. “Do you like that?”

He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but missing the mark spectacularly.

Jyn tugged his shirt from his pants and he pulled it swiftly off his head. She unclasped the belt running across his abdomen with her hidden weapons, dropping it off the edge of the bed. Placed a warm hand against his heart next to vibroblade she’d given him to hang around his neck.

”I think I like seeing you like this,” Jyn murmured, her touch fluttering against the metal casing. “Wearing my weapons.” 

He turned his head, tenderly kissing her hand and only half hoping she didn’t notice the flush rising in his cheeks. 

Jyn licked her lips absently, but the look in her eyes told him what she couldn’t put into words. She couldn’t quite believe they were here. She was grateful to be here, to have him, and it something far deeper than physical attraction that drew her to him and made her want to take this next step. She removed the blade from around his neck. 

Her thumb caught the edge of an old scar on his rib as she continued her mild exploration of his body.

“From a long time ago,” he explained. Now wasn’t the time to narrate painful memories, but he did wish he could tell her someday and she would be willing to listen.

Jyn kissed the scar in acknowledgement.

She hooked her fingers under the brightly-coloured waistband of his pants, her eyes flicking up to his for approval. He nodded tightly, anticipation burning in his veins. She tugged his pants down and he lifted his hips off the mattress to make her task easier, although she had to stop with an irritated huff when his boots got in the way and they had to spare a moment to take care of that problem.The next thing to go was the thin strap around his thigh holding more of her weapons. It joined the previous one on the floor.

Jyn trailed her hand over to fabric that did nothing to hide how painfully turned on he was, deliberately allowing the edge of her palm to brush against him.

He groaned. “ _Jyn._ ”

She grinned something wicked before ducking down to kiss him again, gasping quietly against his lips when he carded his fingers through her hair. Cassian found her hair tie, tugging to pull it loose, before catching the ornate blade she’d tucked in as a decorative hairpin before it fell.

“Found one,” he announced with an air of triumph when she shook her hair loose and stared at him. “You challenged me to find the weapons you hid, remember?”

Jyn chuckled, plucking the blade from his hand and setting it carefully down on the floor. “I did. Still up for the challenge?”

Cassian cleverly trailed his hands up the bare skin of her thighs, up, up until they skirted the place her one-piece ended just below the curve of her ass.

“I have a couple of good guesses.”

 

After, Jyn pulled on a sleep shirt and a new set of briefs before tucking herself against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Cassian turned to press a kiss to the top of her head and say goodnight.

A pity he had to go walk in on a Governor doing the nasty with a subordinate; it meant that he would call for an early extraction as soon as the sun came up, and they would shortly be back in the frigid cold of Echo Base and under the watchful eyes of their team and his ridiculously protective droid.

Still, she could admit at least to herself that she loved him.

She hoped they would cross that next line soon.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Rule number one of the Undercover Operative Guidebook: always be prepared.  
> (That was made up. So was this planet.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
